


Ningyo Matsuri

by amhrancas



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Gen, old fic is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amhrancas/pseuds/amhrancas
Summary: Sometimes family legacies are best kept locked away... A mysterious house with no heir seems to bring nothing but woe to those who become entangled in it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a pinch for the 2012 je_squickfic exchange. Thanks to diefleder_tey and beltenebra for beta and supportive services <3 Influences for this story are from a number of places, mainly SPN, Yukan Club, Strawberry Night, and a number of fairy tales from my youth.

“And there was this crash, like glass breaking, which caught our attention because no one’s ever in that house.”  
  
“There hasn’t been anyone over there for, like, six years”   
  
“And so we decided to see who it was and there were these two guys—and one was at the bottom of the stairs just lying there—”  
  
“—and there was so much blood.  I was so scared! I’ve never seen a dead person before—”  
  
“—and the other guy came racing out of the house—”  
  
“—and he crashed right into Senga. And he dropped that bag over there—”  
  
“I accidentally tripped on it, too.  I think I might have broken something in it, I’m really sorry.  I’ll pay for it if I did, really!  It was an accident...” The shorter of the two men’s voice drifted off and a momentary silence filled the pause.  
  
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but could either of you tell me what the man who ran away looked like?”  Fujigaya Taisuke quickly jumped on the gap in an attempt to get his interview back on-line.  What had started out as a search for a brief synopsis of events had turned into a runaway circus of storytelling and overly animated gestures.   
  
“He was tall, with short spiky hair—”  
  
“Yeah- it was sticking out everywhere, but it was kind of down to his shoulders.”  
  
“And a—”   
  
“Ooh! and he was all in black!”  
  
“Yeah! Except for his black shirt!”  
  
“Yeah— wait, what?”    
  
“I dunno. Wait—what did _you_ just say?”  
  
The young detective stared blankly at his page of abandoned notes and then back up at the two witnesses as they continued to talk over each other excitedly.  The two friends had been the first, and only, people to see anything or anyone at the scene, but aside from that it was proving difficult to get any information from them that didn’t ultimately circle back around and contradict themselves or leave him completely confused.  At the foot of the driveway he noticed a patrolman directing a man in a plain, serviceable, brown suit over toward him.  Taking advantage of the opportunity he brought the interview to a close.   
  
“Thank you again, Mr. Nikaido, Mr. Senga.”  He handed them both a card with directions to their Department Headquarters.  “Could you both check in with our precinct artist, Sergeant Tegoshi, so he can start on a composite sketch?  I’ll be sure to contact you if I have any further questions.”    
  
After the two men said their farewells and headed off he turned to the new arrival.  He appeared to be around the same age as him but was visibly uncomfortable with the surroundings.  He kept glancing back over at the dark, utilitarian looking vehicle marked “Coroner’s Office” parked in the main drive by the house entrance.  Fujigaya lightly coughed to catch the man’s attention.  
  
“Oh! Sorry.” The man nervously laughed at his own startled reaction.  “I’m sorry for the interruption, Detective Fujigaya.”   
  
“That’s okay, I wasn’t really getting anywhere with those two.”  
  
“My name is Miyata Toshiya.  I’m here from Kitagawa Estates Management.” Miyata stretched out his hands offering his business card to the harried looking investigator.  “I understand there was a break-in of some sort with the property?”  
  
Fujigaya cleared his throat as he looked over and pocketed the card.  “Fujigaya Taisuke, I’ve been assigned this case.  And yes, a break-in that didn’t turn out very well for one of our would-be thieves, it seems.”  The detective tilted his head in the direction of the Coroner’s van.   “Kitagawa Estates Management, huh? I was told by the neighbors that this house was owned by the Kitayama family? Has that changed recently?”   
  
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry.  We’ve only just taken over management of the property this morning, and so I do apologize for any disorganization on our part.”  Miyata flipped through some printouts that were haphazardly shoved into the notebook he was carrying.  “It looks like the house had been in the Kitayama family for a number of years, going back at least a century.  Unfortunately, the family fell into bad circumstances after the matriarch passed away in the 1990s and, for some reason or another, it seems that there was only one member of the family left—a distant cousin who’s been living in America.  He apparently wanted nothing to do with the property and refused to allow his name to be placed on any of the titles or documents, and so the property has been turned over into our care until the assets can be properly disposed of.  It’s my understanding though that the only thing of value that has remained  in the house these past several years is an old doll collection that the family has held onto for generations.”  
  
Fujigaya visibly shuddered at this mention.  “Yeah, they’re still in there and some of them are incredibly creepy if you ask me.  It looks like the thieves were hoping to pick off a few of the more valuable ones before things went wrong.  Unfortunately it looks like some of the pieces may have been damaged.”  
  
“Fun.” Miyata let out what seemed to be a combination laugh and sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing heavy bangs back before they flopped right back into place.  “I was supposed to start inventorying them later this week, but I guess I’ll start it now.  Can I start with the damaged ones or will you still need it for— what’s it called? ‘Processing’?”    
  
Fujigaya laughed a little at the attempted jargon.  “No, it’s okay. We’ve got the upstairs cleared already so if you start there you’ll be fine.  You might have to wait a little while before everything on the main level’s cleared, but it shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.”   
  
“I’ll start on the upstairs first, then.”  
  
  


ｘ－ｘ－ｘ－ｘ

  
  
The body had already been removed from inside the house and was on its way to the coroner’s office when Fujigaya led Miyata in past the crime scene tape and into the foyer of the house.  The body was gone, but in its place at the foot of the stairs a massive bloodstain continued to thicken upon the wooden slats of the floor.  Miyata was able to piece together a rough idea about how the man had died from the snippets of conversations he overheard while being led through the sparsely furnished rooms towards the staircase and up to the second story.    
  
“The odds that the bone would sever the femoral artery like that though— it’s just creepy, and weird.  I mean, that stuff doesn’t really happen, right?”  Two members of the crime scene clean-up crew spoke in hushed tones as they began working on the stain.  “And did you see that leg? The angle of it and everything— bent backwards and sideways like that, that’s just not something I’ll ever forget.”  
  
Somewhere on the main floor a clock began to chime three.  The call from his assistant had come in just past noon, Tsuyoshi’s voice excitedly relating the details of the house to him, clearly excited by the prospect of being involved with something associated with a criminal case.  Miyata glanced back once more at the darkening patch on the wood and decided that he could happily do without this sort of excitement in his life.  
  
Fujigaya led Miyata to a room that took up the majority of the second floor, pausing outside the door to wave him ahead.   Inside was nothing like anything that Miyata had ever seen before.  Shelves upon shelves lined the walls of the room, and rows of tables and miniature versions of furniture filled the interior.  And efficiently filling every usable space were more dolls than Miyata could ever imagine in a single space.  A quick glance showed him a variety ranging from the more common Ichimatsu dolls and rag dolls of the early and mid 1900s to much older and rarer sets of Hinamatsuri pieces dating back centuries.  The most startling piece in the collection, though, had to be the full-sized Iki-ningyou displayed in the back corner of the room.  Miyata wordlessly made his way back to its case, stopping a few feet back from the lifelike mannequin’s twisted face, half-shrouded by a thick fall of black hair, both of the doll’s hands pressed up against the display glass as if it was trying to claw its way out.    
  
“Incredible.”  
  
“Right? And creepy as hell.  Why would you even keep or display something like that?”  Fujigaya made his way over towards him, all the while warily eyeing the case and doll.  
  
“Strong sense of humor?”  Miyata laughed at the look Fujigaya shot him, one that clearly said he was nuts.  “It’s also worth a few hundred thousand or more, if that helps sway your opinion?”  
  
Fujigaya’s brows rose significantly at this and he turned back to appraise the case once more.  “Yeah, well, that may be but I still wouldn’t want it in _my_ home.”  
  
They both turned back towards the rest of the room and Fujigaya gave a brief rundown of what they knew of the collection so far.  While a few other pieces were displayed in other places in the home, the bulk was housed in that room, and only one of the dolls inside it had been damaged from what they could tell.  He showed Miyata where it had fallen on the floor; an Ishou piece, likely dating to the middle Edo period, of an old man, his left leg now broken off close to the torso and laying at an awkward angle behind the rest of him.  Miyata stared down at it for a moment before looking back at Fujigaya with a puzzled expression.  “How did they say the thief was laying when he fell down the stairs?”  
  
“Pretty much just like this.  Yeah,” he added as Miyata visibly blanched.  “Like I said, creepy.  I’ll let you get to work in here, just let me know when you’re ready for the next room.”  
  
  


ｘ－ｘ－ｘ－ｘ

  
  
“Oh, don’t forget the notes for class!”  Nikaido pulled a notebook out from his bag and tossed it over to Senga who shoved it into his own backpack with a returned thank you.   “Hey, what time does your shift end?”  Nikaido swung his bag back to his other shoulder.  The afternoon had been a bizarre one to say the least, and after interrupting a robbery, finding a dead— _dying_ , he corrected his thoughts, body and spending the last hour at the Police Station trying to describe a face he had only seen for a second or two was more than enough excitement to last him for a lifetime.    
  
“I get off at 11 tonight, so I should be home by 11:30.”  A distant rumbling and screeching of brakes on metal rails rose above the din of the station as the 4:27 rounded out of the previous stop.  “I gotta go, the train’s coming! Catch you back at the apartment, okay?”   
  
“See ya! And don’t spill anything on those notes! I’m gonna need them in the morning!  And tie your shoe!!”    
  
Senga laughed and spun away, racing towards the platform, the neon laces had worked their way loose now snaking around the concrete floor.  “Yeah, yeah! I know!” his voice fading into the surrounding crowd as he stumbled and danced his way around a small herd of elementary schoolers playing a chaotic round of tag despite the loud protests of their harried-looking teacher.    
  
“Seriously, guys! Knock it off before someo—”  
  
  


ｘ－ｘ－ｘ－ｘ

  
  
“So, the kid from earlier was pretty convinced that one broke when he tripped over the bag.”  Fujigaya explained while peering over Miyata’s shoulder.  There had been a total of three dolls in the bag, none of which looked like much to Fujigaya’s untrained eyes; he certainly wouldn’t have paid anything for them. “Said to let him know what the damages come to so he can replace it.”  
  
“No, no. It’s okay, I’m sure it was just an honest accident.  I couldn’t in good conscience hold him accountable for it.”  Miyata gingerly picked up the two halves of the small bisque doll that had been caught underneath the young man’s foot. It hadn’t been anything special in the collection, a modern Hakata that probably dated back to the 1960’s.  Mass-produced and likely only held onto for sentimental value. “Besides, I doubt it would even resell for a couple thousand yen, so he really shouldn’t even worry himself about replacing it.”  
  
“Makes you wonder why they were taking it in the first place.”  Fujigaya crouched down opposite the assessor and watched him note down the details and where any damage was located on the dolls on the stack of forms he had brought with him.    
  
“It’s certainly not the first piece I would take if I were hitting up this collection.” Miyata gestured towards the upper level before continuing.  “It’s not even the 80th one I would take.  None of these, actually, are worth much at all.  It just doesn’t make sense that they would take these and leave so many more valuable pieces alone.  Now _this_ ,” Miyata continued, returning his attention to the broken doll in front of him.  “The damage to it _is_ curious though, look at how clean the break is, almost like it’s been cleaved exactly in two across the middle.”  
  
  


ｘ－ｘ－ｘ－ｘ

  
  
It was over within seconds,  the people present on the platform who had witnessed the accident all agreed that it was a horrible tragedy.  The children had been rushed off to an area of the station removed from the scene as their teacher tried to calm them all down.  
  
“Wait, slow down and tell me again.  What happened?”  Fujigaya was tired.  What had already been a long day was now looking like it would never end.  He had excused himself from the house scene as soon as the phone call had come through, the panicked and hysterical voice of Nikaido Takashi on the other end of the line.  Now that he stood in front of him the story still wasn’t making much more sense.  
  
“There were these kids running around all over the platform when I left to get my train, and Senga was waiting here to get his.  He had to catch the 4:27 so he could get to work-- oh God, I need to call his job so they don’t worry—” Nikaido’s voice cut off with a stifled sob.  “But these kids,” he continued “I guess one of them tripped really close to the edge?  That’s what the one lady said.  But so this kid tripped and Senga went to catch him and as he turned to spin the kid away from the edge another kid ran up to tag him and it must have knocked Senga off balance enough that he couldn’t right himself, I guess?  And the teacher was yelling, I could hear it from where I was and then the train was there and I heard everyone screaming and— they say it cut him in half, Mr. Fujigaya.” Nikaido stared up towards the platform area, eyes unfocused and expression numb before he blinked a couple of times and visibly shook himself back into focus.  
  
“Hey, have you had anything to drink in the last few hours? Any water or juice?” Fujigaya placed a hand on Nikaido’s shoulder to steady him as he studied the younger man’s face and his eye movements.  “Here, go over there and get yourself some tea or something, okay? Take a minute for yourself, okay?  Do you have anyone you can call? Maybe a family member to come and meet you?”  He handed Nikaido a couple of coins and watched him shuffle off to the vending machines.  Turning around towards the platform area he spotted the officer on-duty and headed over to him.  After introducing himself and flashing his badge the officer let him through onto the platform and began filling him in.  
  
Fujigaya stepped up to the edge near the tracks and steeled himself before looking down.  He had seen more than his share of deaths in his time on the force, and train deaths were always the worst.  Not that there was ever that much left to see, but that in essence was what made it so bad.  Fortunately what _had_ been left of the body had already been removed by the coroner’s team, but the spray of blood and other remains too small for the quick recovery team to get still remained everywhere as a reminder of what had happened  less than an hour before.  Fujigaya’s eyes stopped on a stray tennis shoe lying on the other side of the neighboring tracks before he closed them and turned away.  
  
  


ｘ－ｘ－ｘ－ｘ

  
  
“And we’ve ruled out sealing them up in boxes or destroying them?”  
  
“Yeah, Kitayama suggested against that idea, unless we enjoy the prospect of getting buried alive or having any number of similar fates befall us.”  Miyata dryly answered.  “As it was explained to me, since my company, and more specifically _my name_ , are the ones on the ownership papers for the dolls, the responsibility for them has fallen to us, again, specifically to me.  If anything happens to them then I’ll most likely be the one that pays for it.”  
  
“I’m going to assume that he’s speaking from familial history; and take his word on it.”  Fujigaya slid the last few pages of his notes back into his briefcase.  Finding out about the dolls’ history hadn’t been a pleasant task.  In the years since the old lady had passed more than 23 members of the Kitayama family had died, all in strange and tragic manners, presumably all tied to attempted disposals of the dolls.  “After everything I’ve learned about this nightmare I don’t blame him at all for cutting himself out of the family.”  
  
“Likewise.  He certainly wasn’t eager to talk about this.  It was like pulling teeth trying to get his lawyer to make the arrangements so that I could even talk to him.  Basically our options now are to leave them as they are in that house, or relocate them to a more secure facility that hopefully-- and I cannot believe I’m about to say this-- won’t piss them off.” Fujigaya had to laugh at hearing the last line.  Miyata joined him in it.  The absolute absurdity of the situation was still too high to _not_ laugh at it.  
  
“So, what’s the plan for that Nikaido kid?  Is he someone we need to be worried about?”  
  
“No, I don’t think so.  He’s assured me that he never came anywhere near the dolls, and he certainly didn’t go into the house.  I think he’ll be fine, or I guess maybe not fine, but at least he should be safe.  For the time being he’s moved back in with his family, which I think is a good thing.  They seem to be a strong and positive force in his life.”  
  
“Good.  That’s good to hear.  Sometimes home is the best choice and after losing a friend like that... I think home is a good choice.”  
  
“And how about you?  Are _you_ going to be okay?”  Fujigaya was worried about Miyata.  This wasn’t easy news to process from any angle, all the more-so when it now centered on you.  Miyata took a deep breath and looked out the window.  
  
“I’ll have to be.”  
  
  


ｘ－ｘ－ｘ－ｘ

  
  
It was supposed to be such a simple job; break-in, steal a couple of the dolls, start the fire and then run.  The man had said that if they made sure to sell the stolen dolls that it would keep the main focus on the theft and not the fire. It was supposed to be amazingly simple, and such an easy way to score so much money.  Fifty million yen.   They both had sat there facing each other in stunned silence, the voice on the other end of the speakerphone allowing them a moment to consider the offer.  Tamamori’s mouth had dropped open and he kept closing it and opening it like a fish, silently mouthing the words “fifty million” while Yokoo had just leaned forward, elbows on his knees while he buried his face in his hands and took it all in.  Leaning back he ran his hands through his hair and looked at Tama, eyebrows raised as if to say “Well?”      
  
It was so simple.  It _would have been_ so simple.  If he hadn’t bumped into Yokoo, hadn’t made him drop that doll— Tama was now positive that that was what started it all.  He’d seen Yokoo fall backwards down the stairs, it was exactly if someone had pushed him, but there had been no one else with him.  And the way he was laying there— exactly like that doll...  No, Tama was certain that that had been the start.  
  
To make matters worse he hadn’t been able to contact their client, hadn’t heard from him since the morning of the job, and his number in America had been disconnected.  Tama knew for sure now that he was on his own in this.  The house was still standing; the dolls had been taken away by that large truck, whoever they were.  It was all over now.    
  
Huddling further into the corner he reached into his coat and pulled out the bundle of cloth he had been keeping in his pocket.  He gingerly unwrapped them, all the way down to a layer of cotton padding which further protected the tiny Kimekomi doll inside.  His mother had had one like this when he was younger.  Slowly he traced his fingers over the tiny, perfect seams in the bright, fabric-covered body, turning it in his palm before he stopped and choked back a sob.  There, at the juncture of head and body, a fine crack had formed and was running almost halfway around the neck.  
  
  


ｘ－ｘ－ｘ－ｘ

  
  
“How about you, have you heard anything new since then?” Fujigaya asked as Miyata opened the office door for him.  He had sought out the assessor and ran into him a few minutes earlier as he finished up his lunch at the ramen stand down the street.  Their second thief had been found hidden away in a bicycle storage garage.  From the looks of things he’d been hiding there for a lengthy amount of time before his neck had been snapped.  They were still looking for any leads as to who had killed him or how it had happened, but if the small doll clutched in his hand was any indicator...  
  
“No. Nothing on my end at least.  We’ve made sure that the keys to the vault have been locked away in a safe-deposit box and the key to that is locked up in the vault here.  I don’t think anyone at Kitagawa is itching to get anywhere near that collection, so hopefully it’ll stay quiet for the next few decades or so.”   Miyata nodded a greeting back at Tsuyoshi who hurriedly got up from his desk at their arrival.  
  
“Mr. Miyata, Detective Fujigaya.  I hope your lunch went well?”  He handed Miyata a slip of paper with his messages and missed calls for the afternoon and followed the two men towards the Assessor’s office.    
  
“What’s this?” Miyata asked tapping at the plain cardboard box sitting on the corner of his desk.  
  
“I’m not sure,” the aide answered a little hesitantly.  “It wasn’t there before you left?  I’m quite sure that no one’s been through here since this morning.  Was there anything else you needed, sir?”    
  
Miyata glanced at Fujigaya, his face cautiously blank as he looked down at the unmarked package and then back to Miyata, his eyebrow lifting in curiosity.  
  
“No, thank you. We’ll be fine Tsuyoshi, you can take a break now if you’d like.”    
  
Miyata neatly cut through the packing tape and opened the box; his brow furrowed a bit as he pulled away the top layer of packing and slowly set it on the table.  Quietly he sat back down into his chair and looked at Fujigaya before turning away, a cold sweat prickling across his forehead.  Fujigaya stared down into the package, the charred remains of a Kokeshi doll facing back up at him.  
  
“It seems it isn’t over after all.”

 


End file.
